day30

Day 30: Zion National Park, UT by Wookie Kim

After catching a spectacular sunrise in Joshua Tree, I'd finally made it to Zion National Park, in southwest Utah.

I'd been here before, but under very different circumstances. The law firm at which I'd worked as a summer associate after my second year of law school goes on an annual "firm hike", almost always always on an epic scale. In the summer of 2012, the firm chose to tackle The Barracks--a remote, out-of-NPS-boundary, hike that is essentially a souped-up, harder version of the ever-popular Narrows. It was the most incredible day hike I've ever done, and also the hardest. We tackled record-breaking summer temperatures that made for a hard (and, frankly, dangerous) hike. But everyone made it out alive, so all's well that ends well.

I'd had my Zion experience from down in the canyon, but now I was back to see the place from a different perspective. This time, I wanted to be up above it all, on the famed Angels Landing.

The drive, at 360 miles, was long--a harbinger of the even longer driving days to come. That meant I didn't arrive at the park until almost 4 p.m.

I set up shop at my site in the Watchman Campground. I'd just spent the night at Jumbo Rocks in Joshua Tree--the first campground that was a destination in itself--so I was even more surprised when I saw how beautiful the scenery was here in Watchman.

Because I'd arrived far later than expected, I didn't think it made sense to tackle Angels Landing on the same day. Part of my hesitation was due to logistics. Unlike most parks, Zion prohibits private car traffic on the main canyon road during the busy season. Visitors get around by using a very efficient shuttle bus system. I couldn't rely on simply driving right up to the Angels Landing trailhead. I needed to factor in the transit time to get there by bus. It just didn't make sense to start such an ambitious hike so late in the day. Moreover, I was two days away from arriving at the Grand Canyon and I didn't want to rush the run and end up fatiguing myself for the Rim-to-Rim.

But I wasn't about to do nothing, either. I decided on a compromise solution: I'd hike something easy today, and then tackle Angel's Landing early tomorrow morning. That way, I'd feel like I hadn't wasted a day. I opted to hike the Emerald Pools Trail. I hopped on a shuttle bus, got off at the Zion Lodge stop and began the 3-mile roundtrip hike.

The beginning of the hike took me along the banks of the Virgin River. It was this river that had, over countless years, carved out the epic canyons of Zion. That fact was hard to believe, because the river looked weak and powerless--a mere trickle!

As I meandered along the river, I saw an emaciated mule deer. I felt really sorry for it. It was feeding, but clearly it wasn't doing a good enough job of it. I wondered if he or she was sick.

On a hike, I obviously have more opportunities to soak things in. I suppose I'm slightly more aware of my surroundings than when I'm running. It was a nice change of pace. At that moment, I was thinking very much of the time of day. The sun was beginning to set, and that meant that the inner canyon would be lit up differently. It was cool to see those differences, as they really highlighted certain features.

The hike itself continued up a gentle slope and passed a few of the emerald pools, which I found, quite frankly, unimpressive. I think part of the issue was that the water level was very low, so there weren't really much in the form of pools to look at to begin with. Any water that existed didn't really even look the color emerald.

One thing that impressed me, however, were the hanging gardens and other canyon-based plant life. Basically, there were parts of the canyon walls that had seeping water. And anywhere that there was water seeping out, there were plants.

At the Upper Emerald Pool, there was little puddle on a big rock. I tried to take a photo of the Zion canyon wall's reflection in the puddle.

The hike ended pretty quickly. And then it was time for dinner. I wanted to catch the ranger talk that evening. Having just spent time at Astrocamp in the San Jacintos, I was particularly intrigued by the topic (i.e., "The Great Journey: A Glimpse Across the Galaxies"). To ensure that I'd make it back to the amphitheater in time, I ate at a Thai restaurant just a half-mile outside the park in Springdale.

The talk itself gave me flashbacks to the couple astronomy classes I took in high school. They were very rudimentary, but I realized I knew far more about the night sky than a lot of the audience. I've thoroughly enjoyed the ranger talks, partly because you never know what to expect from each ranger, and this one was no less enjoyable. The main takeaway: we humans are a really, really, really small part of the universe.

After the talk, I went back to my campsite and got ready for bed. I was planning to wake up very early and catch the first shuttle bus to Angels Landing. Further, my goal was to be the first person reaching the top that morning. I figured that, as long as there wasn't any super-crazy ultra runner on the same bus, I'd easily beat everyone to the top. Before going to bed, I tried taking a few photos in the moonlight. I captured the stars (and clouds) directly above, as well as several of the Watchman, a 2,500-foot tall jagged spire. The combination of full moon and long exposure time created a funky set of photos.

Day 30: Joshua Tree National Park, CA by Wookie Kim

Normally, what follows would be merged with the rest of the day's post, but this morning was so spectacular that I decided I'd write separately about the first 45 minutes of my day.

The previous night, I'd narrowly avoided either being stranded on top of a pile of rocks or falling off a cliff and badly hurting myself. This morning, I was ready to catch the sunrise from the same perch.

At 5:30 a.m., I was up and out of my tent. After using the bathroom and getting my camera gear ready, I made my way back up to the top of the rocks. I made it to the top at 5:59, and this was my first view of the campground.

6:00 a.m.

6:00 a.m.

Official sunrise was not for another 15 minutes or so, so I scanned the area as my eyes adjusted to the dark. As the sky continued to turn colors, I noticed a strange cloud formation on the horizon. It looked like a mini-tornado.

6:06 a.m.

6:06 a.m.

As the minutes ticked away, different parts of the tornado turned orange.

6:11 a.m.

6:11 a.m.

At some point, a plane started creating a streak across the sky that was on a collision course with the tornado.

6:15 a.m.

6:15 a.m.

It was kind of surreal to see these formations against the landscape.

The campground was still dark at this point, but the horizon showed the hills with differing levels of faintness.

6:19 a.m.

6:19 a.m.

By now, others had joined the party. All around me, people were clambering up rocks to their respective viewpoints.

6:21 a.m.

6:21 a.m.

6:22 a.m.

6:22 a.m.

The plane eventually made it way past the tornado. It truly looked like some form of abstract art in the sky.

6:24 a.m.

6:24 a.m.

Looking away from the east, the clouds were a different color. Still beautiful.

6:25 a.m.

6:25 a.m.

Official sunrise was just a few minutes away. The last of the sunrise watchers clambered up to their perches.

6:26 a.m.

6:26 a.m.

And at 6:29, I saw something incredible. The horizon started glowing fiery red. Had I not known that the sun was rising, I would've thought an atomic bomb had just been dropped over there.

6:29 a.m.

6:29 a.m.

The camera didn't actually capture what I was seeing. It was a bright red spot glowing in the middle of on orange horizon. Truly incredible. I zoomed in on the epicenter. And I also looked at the horizon from a wide angle. Truly, these photos don't capture how bright the red glow was.

One upside to the smog is that it makes it easy to gauge distances. The succeeding layers of mountains grow fainter and fainter. I caught sight of a bird flying across, and managed to capture it against the hazy hills.

6:31 a.m.

6:31 a.m.

Within minutes, I could sense that the sun was about to peek over the hilltop. That section of the horizon was glowing a fiery red. 

6:32 a.m.

6:32 a.m.

Finally, the top edge of the sun poked out. It is amazing how quickly the sun moved in the span of 60 seconds.

6:34:01 a.m.

6:34:01 a.m.

6:34:22 a.m.

6:34:22 a.m.

6:34:51 a.m.

6:34:51 a.m.

I think sunrises have been the favorite part of the day for me on this trip. I love being surrounded by darkness and then having the world light up around me. And the peace and solitude at this time of day is unparalleled. The sun continued its rapid ascent into the sky.

6:35:22 a.m.

6:35:22 a.m.

6:35:49 a.m.

6:35:49 a.m.

6:36:41 a.m.

6:36:41 a.m.

Finally, by 6:37 a.m., the sun was entirely visible in the sky. I loved the way its glow shaded the hills. 

6:37:04 a.m.

6:37:04 a.m.

6:37:22 a.m.

6:37:22 a.m.

The sun had not yet hit the campground. It was still quite dark.

6:38:30 a.m.

6:38:30 a.m.

Now that the sun was completely up, I was ready to come down and eat. I really loved my perch way up above the rest of the Jumbo Rocks campground. It had taken some effort (and a huge scare) to get up here. But it was worth it.

As I was about to descend, the first rays shone across the area (my tent is the white and green one in the bottom-center).

As I made my way to the shallower side of the rock, I looked down and noticed a couple who'd opted to sleep outside, between two rocks, and under the stars. They looked very peaceful.

I got back down to my campsite. I looked up at my wonderful perch for that morning (and the previous evening). I thought to myself how amazing it was that a few dozen feet of vertical could change your entire perspective on the world.

I cooked a quick batch of Birch Benders pancakes (amazing, as always!), and hit the road. I had over 350 miles to drive to my next destination, Zion National Park, so I had no time to lose. As I descended out of Joshua Tree, I decided I'd pull over and take one last photo of the eponymous tree. Their area is dwindling, so who knows if future generations will have the opportunity to see these weird plant/tree hybrids.

And then I was on the open road again.

I took a detour into the Mojave National Preserve. What a landscape! Right in the middle was an abandoned railroad town, Kelso.

It was crazy to think that during World War Two, Kelso was a boomtown. But it really just shows how fragile our lives and our environments are, and how things can happen that are entirely unimaginable. I'm sure the people who came and lived in Kelso never would've imagined that it would become a shell in the desert.

And then I cruised--into Nevada, past Las Vegas, through Arizona, and into Utah--to Zion National Park.

On rest. by Wookie Kim

One thing that separates good runners from great runners is each's approach to rest.

The good runner never actually rests. For the good runner, the "easy" days are still just a tad too hard to be classified as easy. As a result, the good runner simply stays good, and never becomes great.

The great runner, by contrast, treats rest as seriously as one would, say, a track workout. For it is only by pausing after a period of stress that one's body has the time to rebuild itself--and to do so in a way that makes one stronger, fitter, and faster.

I've always thought of myself as a runner who takes rest seriously. But frankly, it has been hard to do that on this trip, partly because I logistically don't have the time to rest, but also because I don't want to rest. Each day on the road, I encounter too many things that I want to do. And it's sometimes hard to resist doing them.

This weekend, I need to do whatever it takes to win that fight and rest. Less than 3 days from now, I'll be running the Rim-to-Rim in the Grand Canyon--a 25-mile run that will take me from the North Rim down to the Colorado River and back up to the South Rim. The weather at the rim will be cold. At the bottom, it will be scorching. And then I'll have to climb roughly 5,000 feet back out of the canyon. To add to things, because I'm catching the last available transcanyon shuttle at 1:30 p.m., I expect I'll hit the trail no later than 5 a.m.

I've been doing my best the past few days. I've scaled back my runs, picking only 4-5 miles of trails per day, and hiking proportionally more than I normally do. Spending two days in Los Angeles with friends helped; spending a day in the San Jacinto mountains did not. Arriving in Joshua Tree National Park and stepping out into the baking desert heat helped return me to the driver's seat; seeing a bunch of rocks to climb did not. Today, in Zion, I'm doing a short and easy hike--Angel's Landing (it's a little crazy that I now consider a hike like that easy!). Tomorrow, I'm basically just seeing Horseshoe Bend and Lake Powell. Monday, I'll be camping at the North Rim, where I'll do a short run to preview what I'll be tackling early Tuesday. It's a struggle to rest, but I'm doing my damnedest to do it.

This battle to rest happens elsewhere, too. These days, it's too easy to get so wrapped up in one's pursuits that one forgets to rest. I've definitely had moments in my "regular" life when I've been pulled in many directions, unable to cut those commitments that need not actually be commitments. In the same way that great runners take rest seriously, we would all do better if we found ways to pause our oftentimes overly busy lives and do the same. Our bodies--and our minds--would appreciate it.